NOVEL NEXT Chapter 332
<332 - Reckless Challenge>
The elven archer Skola faced unexpected difficulties.
“What’s so pitiful about that?”
Ishtar suddenly interjected, having eavesdropped on the conversation about Skola.
“No one forced you to listen; you heard it because you wanted to. Who threatened you with a sword to take those 38 credits?”
‘That cruel b*tch.’
Ishtar was unimaginably mean.
Jezel secretly disliked the warrior.
“Anyone can see that it was a directive from the Foundation!”
“Just refuse it. It’s also Oknodie’s decision to follow the directive from the Foundation.”
She had reasons to harbor resentment.
She had fallen to the status of a Foundation Scholarship Student.
She learned the cause of it at the Director’s banquet—the sticker copying scam by Oknodie!
It wasn’t a fair competition, and being tricked like that had made her fume with anger towards Oknodie’s group.
Half of her anger came from this reason, and the other half stemmed from anxiety.
The Foundation’s directive.
Scholarship students packed with dark mana, like terrorists wearing bomb vests, could explode any moment.
Who would know if they would also be subject to unreasonable orders?
The warrior was no longer a free person.
Even without any orders, the anxiety and fear were enough to cause substantial stress.
In short, this was stress received from the Foundation poured onto Oknodie for relief.
“So if a directive from the Foundation arrives for you, will you complete the 38 credits?”
“…I’ll know when that time comes.”
“Ha. How amusing. You laugh at our little lady’s efforts, but you’re too scared to do it yourself. Is that what we mean by Warrior Ishtar’s double standards?”
Jezel’s bold provocation got Ishtar riled up.
“Don’t kid around. I’m a warrior. If I set my mind to it, I can do it easily. Oknodie isn’t a warrior either.”
A provocative smile appeared on Jezel’s face, as if to say ‘What did you just say?’
For a brief moment, regret flashed across Ishtar’s face.
Then her expression vanished, replaced by a facade of calm, but Jezel could tell.
A person’s true expression reveals itself in an instant.
If it’s not the genuine sentiment of the moment, everything else is just a lie, a performance, merely the emotions they want to show.
At least, for a merchant living in the underworld, that was common sense.
“If you think so lowly of Oknodie, then you should handle it, right?”
“Oh, what can’t I do?!”
Ishtar, having taken the bait, shifted to a defiant position.
Even if she recognized her foolishness, she still cared about her pride.
The pride of being a warrior.
The humiliation she faced on the cruise ship irked Ishtar like a thorn in her foot.
The fact that Oknodie had tricked her into falling against Anrage’s Apostle and Demonic Contractor Roe made it worse.
Such sneaky tricks wouldn’t help her in the long-term endurance game of credits, which required stamina distribution and overall skill in everyday life.
Even a clever Oknodie couldn’t endure for the entire long duration until the second semester ended.
‘Surely, they’ll give up some credits along the way.’
Thirteen lectures?
I’ll applaud that as a performance.
Anyone would have to marvel at that.
But they couldn’t keep it up.
Whether it’s mental power, stamina, or even living conditions, limits would inevitably emerge.
‘This time it’s a showdown, Oknodie.’
And thus, Ishtar added a whopping seven additional lectures to the existing six.
Professor Mahabharata scratched his head in thought—it was late to be enrolling, but since Ishtar was the applicant, he pondered deeply.
‘Well, she definitely has potential, so that’s okay. If it’s too tough, the saintess or the holy sword will somehow help the warrior survive.’
Thus, the campaign to conquer Skola shifted to the rigorous challenge of 38 credits for the strict warrior.
“Did you hear, Oknodie? The warrior challenged 13 lectures for 38 credits.”
“Whoa, amazing!”
Honestly, I was surprised.
It was the first time a warrior had been so eager to study like this throughout the history of the iterations.
If not a player, they would be the strongest in their year.
Their power applies even to third years at this point.
It’s only natural to become boastful.
Neglecting studies and training in their own unique way was the cliché that all warriors in every iteration had.
“It’s not just the warrior. The lonely princess has increased her classes from nine to ten!”
If the warrior can be compared to the lazy hare from the tortoise and the hare tale, then Yayoi is the textbook example of a character who slowly, but steadily, works hard to reverse her fortune.
Unlike Second Princess Masugaki, Yayoi, with little following or personal strength, barely kept up with her studies, going through the academy quietly like a mouse.
Even from the viewpoint of common students, Yayoi’s challenge felt more impressive than that of the warrior.
The warrior, being inherently talented, might pull off such feats—‘It’ll work out somehow,’ one might think—while a regular princess with no outstanding features increasing her classes feels like a remarkable challenge.
I don’t want to exercise.
I don’t want to study.
The courage to rise from such common laziness that anyone might think about in daily life is easier to relate to than the challenges of a great hero.
“So, you know? I decided to add one myself!”
Though the gossipy chatter about Titosso was interesting, the most intriguing part was still Titosso.
“Really? What are you going to take?”
“Um~ One of the classes Oknodie is taking?”
“Then let’s go to that class together!”
“But I haven’t officially added the class yet?”
“Just say it’s an audit!”
The upcoming class was a 2-credit course from 8 PM to 11 PM on Tuesdays, lasting three hours.
Dr. Pythagoras from the Magic Department taught “Writing Magic through Knowledge Assessment.”
It was a cost-effective class, easier than a 3-credit class that ran twice a week for a total of four hours.
“Is it okay if I don’t know how to use puzzle magic?”
“Yup. The mechanisms are different magic. Let’s hurry!”
Upon entering the classroom, I could see students slumped over the desks with weary faces.
Dinner had ended an hour ago, and at 8 PM, they were starting to sense the oppressive amount of homework.
At this point, the class felt like the ultimate trial to endure and survive.
“Everyone seems exhausted.”
“Second years struggle even more, so it can’t be helped!”
“Second years?”
Titosso cocked her head cutely like a little sparrow.
“Second years? Why? Are there seniors who failed again?”
“…It’s not failing; it’s just a retake.”
One of the slumped upperclassmen lifted their head.
“Ah, Big Stone-senpai! Are you retaking again?”
“Nope! Can you stop treating me like an idiot, you rude junior?”
Big Stone, who I had somewhat acquainted with from the ‘Developing Insight’ lecture in the first semester, was the most approachable among the second-year trio, so Titosso was glad to see him.
“Then why are you taking this class?”
“I’m not the weird one; it’s you guys who are odd.”
Big Stone pointed at the students collapsed over the desks.
“All the pitiful souls passed out here are all second years. The only first years in this class are you two.”
“No way!?”
Titosso’s face crumpled with betrayal, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked back at me.
“But you were the one who said you wanted to take it!”
“Geez. Did you really have to drag us into a senior class?”
“Too late. Class has started.”
With Big Stone’s words, the bell signaling the start of class rang out.
Titosso, who missed her chance to escape, ended up seated next to Big Stone.
Titosso, who had been fuming with anger like a little animal, was startled by the changed atmosphere in the classroom.
‘The second years definitely have a different study vibe!’
Unlike the newbie first years, the pressure faced by the second years was on a completely different level.
When the clock ticked precisely, the teacher, appearing from the summoning magic circle and radiating light, had a markedly different presence than those first-year teachers.
“Seeing you again after a week, you’ve become even more reckless, haven’t you? With that level of mental power, challenging the knowledge assessment won’t be easy.”
The professor, observing the disgruntled second years, spotted Titosso and me, wide-eyed.
“What’s up with these rookies?”
“We’re first years!”
“Place your panel on the magic watch and register your identity.”
Whoosh, thump!
The panel was lightly tossed and stuck into the desk like a shuriken.
As I pulled out the panel to register my identity, I saw Titosso tremble and place her magic watch beside her.
BEEP.
Like a public transport card, the panel emitted a sound when Dr. Pythagoras retrieved it.
“Are we really in the right class…?”
“You’re perfectly in the right class!”
Titosso was feeling awkward.
Dr. Pythagoras was a muscular figure, built like a statue, just like Professor Plato, but with a completely different vibe.
While Professor Plato was a clear-eyed protein fanatic, Dr. Pythagoras had a raw ferocity that seemed ready to pounce on anyone at any moment.
When I was new, I might have thought he was a Knight Department professor, so I understood Titosso’s confused feelings.
“First year Oknodie, first year Titosso. A top student with a junior representing a wolf’s emergency supply nearby.”
“Can Titosso audit for now?”
“The path of learning is open. Only those who endure its harshness can walk it.”
Whether she was trembling out of fear like during Professor Sadako’s class, Titosso shook her head furiously, perhaps realizing what luck she had.
For Titosso, who only had a lot of mana, a new means to wield magic must be quite alluring.
Using the [Mana Board] to employ the magic she knew simply through knowledge.
Even as a veteran player, I felt the same attraction.
‘Implementing the ‘known magic.’
For first years with short learning experiences or students not majoring in the Magic Department, this class could be a wall of wailing, but for me, it was certainly not a reckless challenge.
Counting the known spells was much quicker than counting the unknown ones, making it a sweet double feature for a multi-time veteran.